


Fearfully Made

by Atreu



Category: Original Work
Genre: Belly Kink, Body Horror, F/M, Genetics, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Mpreg, Original Character(s), Pregnancy Kink, Science Fiction, Slow Build, Suspense, Thriller, University
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:13:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29791050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atreu/pseuds/Atreu
Summary: When their idyllic university is quietly infiltrated and converted into a prison, Ryan, the de facto leader of a group of friends, band together to survive the horrific experiments inflicted on the captive students.The shadowy organization, known only as Project Mendel, is headed by a brilliant but ruthless scientist who means to cross every boundary and break every natural and moral law to achieve his mysterious goals, and he intends to use the student body of Ryan’s university as test subjects.Cut off from the outside world, Ryan will discover what lengths he'll go to save himself and his friends and what lines of his own he’ll cross to warn the world of the terrible secrets incubating inside the walls of his university.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Fearfully Made was inspired by the first chapter of The Pregnancy School, written by the author SRuiz a few years ago on a website called mpregcentral. What I will be posting is a fan fiction of what I imagine the story would have been like. I'm posting with permission from the original author.
> 
> This work contains violence, rape, dark themes of power play, body autonomy, and eugenic sci fi experimentation elements. There is also mpreg and belly eroticism. 
> 
> If any of these things are taboo or verboten to you please do not read this story. You have been warned.

Ryan still occasionally thought back to the day he received his acceptance letter.

He should have torn it up and burned it.

It arrived along with a full-ride athletics scholarship to his first choice of universities. He'd nearly stumbled on the sidewalk in his haste to tell his parents. The Fuentes family reacted with smiles, hugs, and a celebratory dinner for the momentous occasion.

That first year had been everything he wanted. His classes were challenging and fun; Ryan usually made the Dean's list, electing to major in education with a minor in biology as a fallback career to his baseball aspirations. He got on well with his teachers and coaches. He made several friends, not the least of which was a romantic relationship with a fellow freshman named Moira.

His rosy prospects began to change starting his sophomore year, with the unexpected installation of a new school president. The departure of Dr. Wolcott had been shocking, to say the least. During last year's commencement speech, he'd sounded eager to return for the next scholastic year.

Over that summer, there had been a complete transfer of power. A new president, Dr. Tomislav Antonov, had already set up shop by the time the students returned. Wolcott's absence was keenly felt that first day; the man had been well-liked among the faculty and student body. Ryan didn’t know it at the time, but that was the beginning of a chain of events that would set his life on a radically different path.

Dr. Antonov wasted no time insinuating himself in the position. During his first address to the students, it became imminently apparent that he possessed a great deal of presence and authority. He was eloquently spoken and quickly allayed the student's confusion and concerns over the power shift.

His congeniality went a long way to cushion his many policy and agenda changes. They were minimal at first. A few faculty were let go and replaced. But over time, Ryan recognized fewer and fewer faces among the staff, even as far down the line as the janitorial hires. Ryan paid it little mind, focusing instead on his studies, athletics, and friendships, especially his flowering relationship with Moira.

Halfway through that second year, Antonov announced his first policy change that directly affected the student body. In accordance with the board of trustees, he decided the university would be transitioning from coed to an all-boys school, effective by the end of the quarter. The announcement was a complete surprise. Many students were outraged, some angrily so, but Antonov was neither phased nor moved by arguments to the contrary.

The girls were offered full refunds and glowing recommendations to any other higher learning institution of their choice. Many viewed it as a thinly veiled bribe to minimize bad press. And it worked. Within short order, the female half of the student body was gone, Moira among them.

Ryan was distraught at losing her. He came close to dropping out like a few other boys had opted to do. His parents encouraged him to finish the quarter. They could then sit down and discuss transferring when he came home for Christmas break; Moira promised to support him no matter his decision.

He should have gotten out then.

Two weeks later, Antonov brought in new security staff to 'ensure the student's safety and well-being.' They were striking in appearance, all of them tall and thickly muscled. They moved in formation with practiced military exactitude whenever they assembled or went on patrols. They gave off an unmistakable air of intimidation in their matching black and purple uniforms. Their faces were always obscured by black mirror aviator glasses that were never off their faces.

They never spoke or interacted with the students more than absolutely necessary. The staff was no exception. They operated in a constant unease state around these men, giving them wide berths when passing. When the new security began to take up stations throughout the campus, Ryan decided they were here to keep people in, not out.

The evening Antonov’s personal security force came for them, Ryan did the only thing he could. Gathering as many of his friends as possible, they fled their dorms that very night. The perimeter was too well monitored by the campus security. Ryan didn't dare try to sneak out. These guards had proven more than adept at hunting down escapees, and they'd be expecting students to try and flee through the fencing.

Antonov's men descended in force on the student body that same night. Ryan didn't exactly know what happened to change them. Still, within days, every single student that hadn't gone into hiding with him later showed up, walking around campus with round bellies sticking out of their bodies.

The runaways began to designate safe zones in remote parts of the vast wooded acreage of school property. They had to go into hiding, stay away from the populated areas, and scavenge for necessities. There would be no fighting back, only staying out of sight and surviving. They just needed to hold out until their parents, who'd surely notice their absence, came looking for them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Chapter contains rape scene.

Ryan never went home for Christmas. His family never came for him. Months passed, and no help ever came. Maybe they never would. It was a shattering revelation; it was then Ryan began to accept that they were truly alone, prisoners in their own university.

He existed in the orbit of this weird Twilight Zone-like life for another two years. The runaways did their best to avoid patrols and the busiest parts of campus. However, things like food, clothing, and other survival necessities meant they still had to risk occasional excursions into campus's occupied territories.

It was now the winter of what would've been Ryan's senior year. Winters were always the harshest times. The air grew exceedingly cold. Winds brought with them overcast days and snow flurries. Food got scarcer. Obtaining things like warm clothes and blankets became paramount since building fires were out of the question. The need for shelter from the elements meant many of their hiding spots became unusable during the cold months. Their options for safe haven were severely limited. Desperation inevitably forced them into taking more chances at sneaking into campus.

It was during those dangerous raids that members were caught. Their numbers started at twenty, only to be reduced to him and a mere three other boys.

The boys learned quickly that concealment was everything. To be discovered was to face a swift capture, without exception. The guards weren't just imposing in stature; they exhibited feats of strength and speed that went beyond the pale of men. Handily outpacing and overpowering any student that had the misfortune of being spotted. Ryan could only describe it as preternatural.

If such a thing could be said concerning their predicament, the upside was that the snow and wind made it more difficult for the guards to track them. Ryan tried to pick coinciding nights of terrible weather to venture out for supplies. An inhospitable night and the need for candles was the catalyst that drove him into his current predicament.

Tonight, Ryan huddled behind the chapel pulpit; the only illumination available was the red glow from the emergency exit sign behind the altar. The chapel stood a short distance off from the cafeteria. It was dark and empty from disuse.

He and one of his friends risked a raid to snag the candles kept on hand for holidays. They'd won a good score, two boxes of them. Since the coast was clear, Ryan made his friend go first while he kept lookout.

Now, Ryan was alone, staring at a little Nokia phone in his palm, waiting for an 'all clear' text. He could barely regulate his pulse; the anxiety of being out and exposed like this always kept him on edge and alert. It also made his nights equally unrestful these days, but Ryan figured it was just as well; he could never relax. The guards were everywhere. It was only through extreme caution and sometimes sheer luck that they'd managed to stay hidden all this time.

They could never be seen; they would stand out like sore thumbs. Even from a distance, it was painfully apparent that they weren't 'participating' in the experiment, that they weren't full to the brim with one of the things implanted inside the other boys.

The hiding spot lit up with the blue light of his phone's little screen. Ryan quickly cupped his hand over the edge to block the low illumination from reaching the windows, thumbing open the text. It was his signal that all was clear.

Deleting the message, Ryan crept out of his hiding spot to the emergency exit. The opening faced away from most of the buildings, with no streetlights to avoid. All he had to do was make it to the parking lot, then the worst of his risk of being spotted would be over.

He paused behind a bush. The frigid air already bit into his bare hands, and his letterman jacket wasn't up to the task of keeping sub-zero temperatures away from his vulnerable flesh. Ryan shivered, cupping his hands and blowing a steaming breath to bring warmth back. Ryan rose from his crouch, preparing to make a break for it when he heard the sudden crunching of snow behind him.

"Being out this late after curfew… pretty suspicious." The voice was masculine, a low tenor in pitch, and it definitely didn't belong to any of his friends.

Ryan spun around in alarm, whirling right into the beam of a bright flashlight. His vision blurred, unable to adjust so quickly to the change in luminosity. Ryan could only make out the general frame of the figure.

The man was tall, over six feet, dwarfing Ryan by several inches. The man's body was thickly muscled and broad of shoulder. Appearing a few inches from where his mouth should be, a tiny point of red light, no larger than a pinky tip, glinted in the shadow. It briefly cast a faint orange glow over the man's cheeks before dimming. Ryan recognized it as the lit end of a cigar hanging out the man's mouth. The metallic shine of the security badge on his left breast sent stabbing waves of cold terror through Ryan's spine.

This man was one of the guards.

"You're definitely not carrying, and you're way too active to be someone that's just given birth." Continued the voice pleasantly, as if he were addressing a coworker at the water fountain. "I don't need to get your name. A glance at that cute face of yours tells me all I need to know."

The guard lifted a clipboard, angling the flashlight over it to read. "Ryan Fuentes. Twenty-one. A known fugitive for close to three years. When apprehended, he is to be subjected to standard breeding yada, yada, yada..." he yawned, tossing the clipboard over his shoulder with cavalier disinterest.

With the light no longer directly in his face, Ryan's eyes better acclimated. He got a look at more of the other man's features. The first thing he noticed was how striking the guy was.

Ryan wasn't gay, nor had he ever been attracted to men in the least. Still, he had to admit that whatever artist sculpted him must have spared no effort in quality. He was tanned, with strong lines and well-proportioned features. His hair was combed away from his forehead—a light dirty blond with a sheen that hinted of waviness.

But, it was his eyes that really stood out, even among the other noteworthy features. His irises were bright rings of golden-hued garnet. There was a reflective shimmer in the indirect light of the flashlight. They were beautiful, but they were utterly inhuman.

For all his striking looks, Ryan didn't recognize this guy. He was confident he could identify all the guards at least by general appearance if not name, and he'd never seen this one before. Nor was there supposed to be a guard this far out, at this time of night.

"Wh-who are you?" Ryan stammered, panicked into stuttering. This was bad, very bad. He had to run. He began to surreptitiously scan the area around them for escape vectors or makeshift weapons to use.

"I'm officer Koopernick." The guard said, sounding oddly genial considering the circumstances. He pulled the cigar from his mouth and flicked it away. "New on the block. Not to worry, though," he smirked as he toyed with his belt buckle. "by the time I'm done with you, you're gonna be calling me Papi..." Koopernick wrinkled his brow, frowning mid-sentence, evidently unhappy with it. "I dunno. Too much? That's super cheesy, isn't it? How about a first name basis. I'm Wya-"

Ryan lobbed a handful of snow at his face before the man could finish his introduction. He used the momentary distraction to grab at the snow-covered two-by-four lying between them, hefted the makeshift bat, then slammed it across the guard's face as hard as he could. There was the sound of wood smacking against skin as his batter-honed swing hit its mark.

Ryan didn't pause to evaluate the damage; he lithely stepped around the larger man and began sprinting in the opposite direction to the baseball and football lawns.

"Feisty." He heard Koopernick muse from behind.

Ryan's neck lurched backward as a large hand wrapped around the cuff of his jacket. He wiggled his arms inside the loose sleeves and pulled clear of it, leaving it to hang uselessly in the officer's hand. However, the maneuver cost him his footing, and he tumbled to the ground a few feet away.

Using the abandoned jacket to brush the snow from his eyes, Koopernick looked annoyed but evidently not injured by the strike. He discarded the coat and smiled, showing a row of perfect teeth.

_What the fuck?! What are these monsters?!_ Ryan thought, panic beginning to set firmly in his mind. _He didn't even blink at that!_

"Kinky," he spoke again in a low voice followed up by a wink. "Tell you what. I'll be sporting and give you a sixty-second head start. If you get away, you live to sneak another day. If I catch you, though, you and I are going to be making a baby tonight." He began to count down slowly from thirty, smiling with an implied threat.

"Shit!" Ryan cursed as he jumped to his feet and took off at his best pace.

From behind, he heard Koopernick pause his countdown to speak into his shoulder radio. "Dispatch, I have Fuentes in my sights. Engaging in pursuit, backup not needed." He then resumed his steady counting.

Ryan redoubled his efforts; his speed was all he had now. Not part of the track team, but still one of the fastest boys in any grade. It made him a speed demon around the plates, scoring many a home run for his teams.

No use leading his pursuer any nearer to his friends, Ryan decided to head away from the safe zone. He ducked away from the main path as swiftly as he could and out of sight from his pursuer. Ryan prayed to god that it would be enough.

He knew what happened to the students once they were caught; he'd watched it first hand. It was back during the early days of their exile. His friends were cornered while trying to raid garbage cans for leftovers. Ryan had been nearby but out of sight.

If he moved, he'd have been spotted. There was no choice but to bear witness to the grisly scene, powerless to do anything about it. Learning the truth nearly cost Ryan his sanity. What he saw next would fuel his nightmares for months to come.

Ryan had assumed whatever was happening to the student’s stomachs was done in a lab of some kind, with surgery and some weird advanced sciency equipment. He saw no Frankenstein-esque laboratory, no chemical-filled test tubes, not a modicum of compassion was spared for the victim's modesty. Far from the antiseptic world of science, this felt primitive.

There was no pretext at civility or obfuscation concerning the students' final fates. To Ryan's revulsion, his friends were bent over and stripped from the waist down. Then, as if the guards were doing something as routine as taking a leak, the boys were raped.

Antonov's guards weren't just part of the experiment; they _WERE_ the experiment!

Moments after the deed was done, both boys began to… blow up. It was like watching some rapid neoplastic tumorous growth concentrated in their abdomens.

The growth was not gradual and certainly not gentle. It happened in minutes. Each boy cried out in fear, clawing at their abdomens, trying to tear out the invading foreign presence. Their struggles soon weakened, debilitated to mear moans and half-formed cries, trapped by the transformations overtaking their bodies. It took only minutes for the two to resemble the other students.

And… the other students nearby all cheered. It happened right in the middle of campus, in full view of everyone in the area. The altered students actually took joy in spectating. What the hell was wrong with them?!

It was like the ground had fallen out from underneath him, leaving Ryan without a foundation on which to conceptualize this new paradigm. He came close to screaming, only biting down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood kept him silent. Later, it would take him days to cobble together enough coherent words to describe it to his group.

Over the years, more of his friends were taken. The rest lived in dread, fearing they would be next. Ryan made a few attempts to sneak in for reconnaissance. It was always tricky. The perimeter was well monitored. Ryan resorted to climbing the nearby old oak to get a better vantage with binoculars.

He couldn't believe it when he saw them, the students, his former classmates, milling around, looking relaxed like they were at a pool party. He almost didn't recognize any of them; they'd gained a shocking amount of weight in the weeks since last seen.

He first recognized Percy Reed, class president and senior. He lay on a lawn recliner, sipping a drink and listening to music. In his lap rested a boulder-like gut, which Percy frequently ran his hand over. He smiled down, moving his lips as though to tenderly speak to it, though Ryan was too far away to make any of the words out.

It made no sense. Why were those students being kept fenced in like this? How had the guards done this to them? The weight was universally concentrated at their mid-sections. They all had ball-shaped stomachs visible under stretched shirts, though they looked normal everywhere else.

Ryan nearly lost his perch at what he witnessed next. Mid drink, Percy grimaced, then pulled his shirt over his rotundity. With his skin open to the sun, Ryan spied… movement. Something _inside_ his stomach rippled.

But Percy was non-plussed over the abnormal displacements happening inside him. After the thing settled down, he returned to affectionately caressing it. He acted… pregnant. But that’s impossible! But the more Ryan considered it, the more it was the only thing that explained the alien-like movement. Pregnant, but with what?

He’d never found out. Now, _his_ number was up.

Ryan shook his head in frantic denial. This couldn't be happening; he would _not_ have one of those monsters growing inside him! Ryan poured on more speed as he reached the grassy ridge separating the gymnasium from the arenas. He stumbled, coming close to losing his balance again as he crested the top. But Ryan managed to turn it into a slide that conveyed him to the bottom of the slope's other side.

Ryan risked a second to glance behind him. No one seemed to be in pursuit of him, at least not that he could see. Good. Maybe he'd managed to lose the guard weaving around all those buildings. He bolted through the track field and vaulted himself over the short chain-link fence that delineated the track's borders and the baseball field.

His breathing was labored but steady, coming out before him in puffs of hot steam. The football stadium grew closer as he hopped over the pitcher's mound and past the dugout, desperation and adrenaline spurning him further on.

When Ryan got to the football field, he took the stadium benches two-at-a-time as he crossed the seating, nearly slamming into the announcer's booth. He lifted the handle and gave a precise little upwards shove. The door popped open; Ryan quickly closed it behind him and fell to his knees on the floor inside. His lungs expanded and exhaled, repeatedly forcing more air through his taxed body. The announcer's booth had been one of their hiding spots; the door could be unlocked if you knew how to jiggle the latch properly and pop it open.

Ryan hid there, trying desperately to slow and quiet down his heaving. The grey light from the window at the front only served to bring the barest of illumination to the dark space. The scared boy leaned against a wall and curled his knees into himself. Once his body had time to cool off, he'd begun to feel the biting chill of the winter evening. His sweat only served to heighten the discomfort further.

He allowed perhaps fifteen minutes to pass. He heard nothing outside nor nearby. No footsteps, no signs of reinforcements for an organized search for him. Ryan shakily climbed up the wall to peek out through the window and into the night beyond.

There was no one, no stirrings, no extra footsteps marked anyone's passing. Ryan began to allow himself the barest of hopes. Had he really lost this Koopernick person? Ryan dared not get too optimistic. Instead, he pulled out his phone and typed a quick message.

_*being pursued. leading away. do not search for me. find way back later. *_

Ryan hit the send-to-all option then re-pocketed his phone. He stuck it out another ten minutes before he could no longer bear the chill. His body shivered as it worked to regulate its dropping core temperature. He keenly missed the meager protection of his jacket right now.

Ryan climbed stiffly to his feet. He was cold, and his legs and chest ached from the strain of his recent exertion. Ryan and the others had been forced to live on the most meager of meals during the last three years. He'd lost a lot of his muscle-mass in weight and some of his stamina since then. His body demanded water and energy to compensate for the expenditure it sacrificed. There would be food back at the safe zone, but that was clear across campus.

Ryan shook his head. If he didn't start back, he might freeze to death. Necessity, as much as anything, drove him to crack the door open and slip back outside. He crept as carefully as he could through the stadium seating to the back of the concrete structure. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself to try and preserve as much core heat as he could.

Tired and cold, Ryan was entirely unprepared for the sudden blur of motion as it burst from the shadows beneath the stadium's overhanging structure. It bulldozed into him with enough force to knock him off his feet and send him sprawling over the ground in a tumble.

Ryan's sight exploded into disjointed shapes and colors as the world spun around him. He heard a sharp crack but had no idea where it came from. The first thing he felt was the cold hard ground beneath his cheek and arms. The wet snow began soaking through his shirt. When he got his bearings, he looked up dizzily to see Koopernick standing, arms to his hips, elbows out, in triumph. His eyes gleamed, and his mouth spread into a smug smile.

"Gotcha!" he declared like he'd won a game of hide-and-seek. "You wanted to play rough earlier, man; we're playing rough."

Playful though the man's demeanor appeared, this was no game. The shooting lances of pain that speared up Ryan's arm when he tried to lift himself off the ground were no laughing matter. Ryan yelped from the unexpected wound. He figured out what the cracking noise was; his elbow looked out of joint. There was already bruising; swelling would soon follow. Judging by his inability to move it, he might have broken a bone.

Koopernick also noticed the injury. His conceited visage faltered fractionally. He grimaced, almost wincing as if seeing Ryan's injury troubled him. "Aw, I hurt you." He began to kneel down near Ryan's sprawled body.

"Fucking bast… how did you-" Ryan tried to speak through the biting pain.

"-Find you so soon?" Koopernick finished for him. "You did a good job doubling back and muddying the direction of your escape. Sad news for you, though. I've been studying your files. I decided to make myself an expert on your patterns, habits, and known trails. After I took your jacket, I knew you wouldn't last more than an hour without risking hypothermia."

The big man dropped to his knees; he leaned further over Ryan's body, bringing his head within a foot of Ryan's. With his face so near, Ryan could better read the man's expressions. Koopernick's smile was… genuine, cheery; unnervingly so. As if he'd found a long-sought-after playmate.

He spoke as if addressing a friend. "I decided I was going to be the one to find you."

Ryan waited until he could see the pores on the other man's face. He had one last trick up his sleeve, and he wasn't going to waste it. He palmed the little spray bottle of mace in his functioning hand.

Koopernick moved to pick Ryan up. "Now, let's start again. I'm-"

Again, he was interrupted. Ryan raised his good arm, mace in hand, depressing the nozzle to release the irritant. Despite being at point-blank range, Koopernick's arm shot up faster than Ryan could see. He swatted the can away contemptuously before Ryan could get a clean shot. He only managed a glancing stream of spray that misted over the side of Koopernick's cheek and temple. The mace went tumbling away and out of reach.

Like the blow earlier, Koopernick didn't seem the least phased by the pepper spray. This time, however, his eyes narrowed in anger at the second attempt at defiance. Ryan saw his square jaw set in determination; his lips curled into a snarl. "Fine. Back to playing rough," he growled.

This time he hauled Ryan up firmly by the arms. The sharp motion caused Ryan to cry out again in pain, but the guard was no longer playing. He dragged Ryan along with him, pulling him like he was a mere five-year-old. He lifted one boot and shoved the door to the boy's bathroom in, with enough force to make the wood crackle, then stormed through with his catch in tow.

Once inside, Koopernick spun Ryan around and slammed him, chest first, into the opposite wall. The force knocked the wind out of Ryan's lungs. He wheezed, desperately sucking air back into himself. Koopernick spoke no more; he gripped the waist of the back of Ryan's jeans and tore it away like so much confetti. Ryan instantly felt the cold air against his nether regions.

Ryan's struggles became more desperate as he tried to push away from the wall and out of the guard's grasp, but he might as well have been fighting the ocean tides. The man's strength was simply beyond human.

The brawny guard pressed his chest into Ryan's back, keeping him pinned to the wall. Ryan felt the heat from the man's face as he brought it within millimeters of Ryan's ear and took a protracted inhale through his nose. Koopernick's hands trailed around his waist and up into his shirt, coming to rest across Ryan's abdomen.

"Mmm, I can't wait until this is full to the brim with life." The larger man whispered into Ryan's ear, voice husky. His hands caressed along the contours of Ryan's flat stomach for a moment longer before the guard returned to his work.

Koopernick wordlessly spun him around, shoving Ryan's back against the wall. He grabbed a wad of fabric at the front of the senior's shirt and tore the last of his garments away. Ryan stood trembling before him, completely nude and terrified.

Koopernick dropped his own pants. His button-down collared shirt hung open at the front, framing his powerfully sculpted and otherwise nude torso. Ryan saw the gleam of lust in the man's eyes, his member, already stiff below. Ryan tried to fend him off, but the guard simply pinned his arms to the walls beside them.

"No! Wait, please, man! Don't do this to me!" Ryan pleaded near delirious. Biting, clawing, kicking, twisting, and punching, nothing worked. This couldn't be happening to him!

Koopernick shook his head, offering no respite to his catch. "Sorry, man, but you know the routine. Nice and big is the way to go." He leaned forward and greedily locked lips with Ryan's in a gratuitous display of desire. He pulled back long enough to gasp. "And I'm a man of my word."

Their forms were in firm contact with each other, flesh to flesh. The heat radiating from the man's torso was scalding hot against Ryan's own winter chilled skin. The unyielding rigidity of Koopernick's sturdy musculature pressed hard against his as the guard pulled him still closer, fully entrapping Ryan.

Koopernick reached under Ryan's thighs, hauling him off the ground. Under the guard's insistent grip, he was made to straddle the larger man's hips. Ryan tried to kick himself off, but he might as well have been a marionette guided by strings for all the difference it made.

Koopernick dipped his head away from Ryan's mouth to bluntly trail his lips down the side of his victim's neck. In between breathy mouthfuls, he gasped, "I knew… I chose… the right one."

When the man entered him, Ryan knew only pain. Pain and the pervading sense of violation.

Ryan never ceased fighting him, but he was exhausted, and this monster was too powerful. His thrashing continued to be ineffective at decoupling himself from his assailant. The guard grunted as he worked; his forceful kisses migrated down to the middle of Ryan's chest, where he suckled at the skin there.

"Here… we… go!" he panted as he worked himself up to the apogee of his arousal.

Ryan felt the spasm of the other man's hips against his, then the rush of Koopernick's discharge within him. Ryan screamed into the ceiling, a wail of total despair and terror. He was infected now; there was no hope for him.

The guard didn't stop, though. He closed his eyes, then let out a soft, extended exhale of satisfaction as he continued to suspend the two of them in their intertwined state. After a handful of seconds, his pelvis spasmed again. Again, Ryan's insides burned as the man's seed discharged. This process repeated twice more before the guard was finished.

After the aggressive carnal leadup to his climax, the epoch of the moment seemed… antithetically regulated, controlled. As if Koopernick were capable of precisely governing the number and measure of his ejaculations, the way one would flex and unflex a muscle. But, Ryan's mind was only nominally capable of registering that insight by then; his thoughts were too replete with panic and despair.

Koopernick's face relaxed and shifted to a closed-eyed, peaceful smile. He finally uncoupled himself from Ryan and gently let the senior slink to the floor before taking a step back to lean against the wall.

Ryan slumped like a rag doll on the ground, exhausted beyond the ability to flee. His whole body ached; his shoulder continued to burn at his nerve endings. These sensations swiftly faded into the distant periphery of his awareness as sudden heat bloomed deep inside him, accompanied by a new ache.


	3. Chapter 3

Ryan whimpered, his hands pressed against the span of muscle between his belly button and crotch. He often imagined what it must have felt like to the other boys when they went through the transformation. He'd never wanted a firsthand experience. There was definitely something happening inside him, distinguishable from the familiar sounds and sensations of his body.

All he could see were his friends as they struggled against the inevitability. He kept seeing himself laying on the floor among them, crying out in that same dying wail.

This was wrong, all wrong!

His innards were being tampered with, torn apart, then rearranged. He could hear squelching wet noises coming from below the surface of his skin. The sensation was intensely uncomfortable. His stomach muscles spasmed, contracting into a hard knot. Ryan was reminded of the times he'd gotten a Charlie horse after a particularly bad day on the field. They had hurt to high hell; this was worse.

It pulled at his insides as if it could constrict all his organs into a tightly coiled spring. Ryan curled into himself to try and find some relief. The strain burned for an uncounted number of minutes; then it would ease up, only to return again in short order. He cradled his stomach, but all he could do was ride out the pain.

Considering what must have been happening inside him, the pain should have been much worse. His insides were being minced; he should have been delirious. There was some sort of block, like a buzz deep inside his head. A white noise against the cacophony of the pain he should be experiencing. But this mercy was as unnatural as everything else.

_Wrong!_ His mind screamed at him over and over as it tried and failed to right itself.

After some time, the pain ebbed for good, as did the cramps. Ryan let his body unbend a little. He wasn't sure how long it took, but Koopernick hadn't moved. He still stood nearby over Ryan's naked form, lying on the floor.

Ryan's reprieve from the pain was short-lived; he suddenly began to feel a new pressure within his core. The bathroom quickly filled with the sound of a bubbling gurgle—a gurgle coming from inside his stomach.

Ryan's clutch over his lower abs tightened. "Nooo!" he wailed.

There were no outward changes… yet, but he could feel a new internal pressure, a mass resting inside him like a small, weighted ball, and it was growing. Ryan slowly, painfully pulled himself to a kneeling position on his knees. His dark eyes turned desperately to the only source of help in the room.

"Make it stop… please!" Ryan's voice was strained from the sobs that escaped his mouth at the same time. He reached a handout in desperation towards the man.

"Can't stop what's already been done." Came the callous reply. Koopernick rummaged through his shirt's chest pocket and produced another cigar, which he lit, then took a long drag from. "Be with you in about ten minutes."

The gurgling grew louder; the pressure was beginning to push out against the wall of his abdominal muscles. Ryan's head jerked back down to his stomach. To his growing horror, he saw the beginnings of a convex curve forming in the space between his belly button and his groin.

It was already happening; he was beginning to fatten.

There was a budding roundness pressing outwards against his palms. He pushed inwards against the swelling as if it were possible to contain it in his hands. Ryan cried out again in despair as he continued to fight the transformation in vain.

In his mounting panic, Ryan attempted to stand and make a break for the door. He managed only two wobbling steps before the exhaustion in his legs, and the growing imbalance in his center of gravity drew him back to the floor.

Ryan toppled back to his hands and knees. His lousy arm erupted in pain again as it tried to take some of the weight off his body, but Ryan hardly noticed it. His belly continued to plump further, demanding more and more of the space at his front. It sagged lower and lower towards the ground, hanging between his arms and legs, pulling away from the rest of his body.

Ryan moaned as he cupped the little pooch. It was fast becoming a sizable pot belly; it had already outgrown the surface area of his hand. It was warm, firm to the touch, like a water balloon heavy with its contents. It accompanied a feeling of fullness, like the kind one got after overeating at a big meal. The tissues of his body stretched over the growing mass it was being made to support. The weight began to pull down on his lower back as it hung off him and continued to push out against his palm.

While Ryan struggled with his expanding body, his other hand accidentally brushed against the discarded fabric of his ruined jeans. He spared a glance from his middle and recognized it as the part of his pants that contained his phone. Desperate, he shoved his fingers into the pocket and pulled out the small, rectangular bit of technology.

It was a futile move. The burly man standing above him immediately saw the phone and snatched it up. He turned the device over in his hand in a cursory examination before looking back down to Ryan. "I don't think so."

He dropped the phone then slammed a booted foot down onto the device. Ryan heard the crunch of snapping plastic and glass. When the foot lifted, the phone lay in ruined pieces.

Distraught, Ryan cursed, but his expletive broke, overpowered by an involuntary moan, as his growing pregnancy sent disorienting, almost pleasurable ripples through his body.

What the hell was happening?! It wasn't supposed to feel good! Ryan shook his head in confusion.

The gurgling again got louder. Ryan's belly surged outward as the growth truly got underway. Ryan flopped back onto his butt, then further back onto his working elbow, and rubbed at the ballooning surface of his developing pregnancy. It graduated into a clearly protruding presence on his front, no longer small enough to pass as a simple beer gut. If he were to guess, he thought he looked six months along.

His caramel skin rippled over the increasing volume as it stretched further around the growing form within him. The shape filled his abdominal cavity, looking lumpy and amorphous through the membrane of his skin. Then the gurgle took on a decidedly liquid sounding slosh, then the pressure inside him increased sharply.

The contours of his belly suddenly filled in and grew more evenly rounded. It quickly inflated into a spherical shape, roughly the size of a volleyball, as it consumed more of his lap space, soon eclipsing Ryan's view of his toes.

Ryan spotted his belly button, a remnant from his own birth, tightly pressed against the outer circumference of the swell. The twisted scar tissue had become shallowed; now, only a thin lip of skin ringed around the nub as it was forced further to the surface by the mounting pressure from within. Ryan mentally likened it to the image of a cork, right before it popped out of the Champagne bottle.

Ryan's hands continued their exploration of the new shape expanding out of him. The discomfort from the abrupt transformation still throbbed against his flesh, but the equivocal rushes of pleasure clashed against throbbing. It left his brain in an ambivalent limbo of pseudo sensations.

Likewise, the noises he heard himself making were equal parts cries of pain and moans of ecstasy. The two sensations had no place being present during the same experience; their impossible coexistence continued to confuse Ryan's mind. It was as if the euphoria was insulating his brain from experiencing the full force of the torment his body endured. It was wrong; all of it was wrong.

The initial warmth spread to encompass the entirety of his belly. His skin felt firm; there was little give to its shape. It was like pressing against the curve of a muscle, not like fat at all. Ryan's terror temporarily diminished due to his sheer bafflement at all the changes happening to him.

Then came the movement. It was almost imperceptible, brief flutters of motion. The first time was slight; nevertheless, it made Ryan jump in surprise. The actions within quickly began to grow stronger. He could feel something press against his insides. Ryan squirmed in discomfort. He gasped when he witnessed a bulge rise out of the surface of his belly right in below his left rib cage. He simultaneously felt that same bulge pressing out against the wall of his belly from within.

The dome of his swelling belly shuddered with movement; the bulge rippled diagonally across his stomach from his rib to above his hip, before submerging back inside him. Ryan cried out as terror wrestled back control of his reactions. No amount of euphoria could make him feel chill over this new alien development.

With a fleshy sounding pop, his belly button bulged outward fully. It perched atop the apex of his growing dome like a cherry on a round scoop of ice cream.

"Ahhh!" Ryan screamed and fell rearward onto his back. His legs kicked; his heels skidded across the smooth floor as if to back him away from his quaking gut. His mind found it impossible to cope with the new reality of the thing moving around inside of him.

His shoulders bumped into Koopernick's legs, around which he pitifully flailed his arms. Ryan rested his head against the side of the nearest leg. Tears flowed freely down the young man's cheeks as he watched his belly twitch with the creature's outlined motion within, outlines that were still increasing in size and weight.

"I'm begging you, please don't do this to me!" Ryan tore his gaze away from his altered body and up to the man responsible. Koopernick stared back down at him through half-lidded eyes and wisps of cigar smoke. His face was passive; he made no move to assist or speak. The message was clear; Ryan would receive no help from him. Tearfully, Ryan turned back to the horror evolving inside of his stomach.

His belly still jostled around, alive with the fierce kicks and jabs from the creature housed within. But the thing inside seemed to have stabilized in size, or at least slowed. Ryan dared allow himself to think that the growth had finally begun to abate.

By now, his belly had easily advanced to the size of a basketball. Ryan thought he looked eight to nine months gone, nearing the size most of the other boys had attained before their swelling had tapered off. He looked pregnant, uncomfortably so.

Then there was a sudden shuddering within his new rotundity. The gurgling again grew louder until it sounded like roiling liquid inside of him. His belly convulsed and distorted like a bucking mule; Ryan clung to the sides of its rounding flanks to brace against being shaken along with it.

As Ryan gawked helplessly on with widening tear-stained eyes. His belly's distension began to pick up again. He sensed another mass, heretofore undetected, expand, first becoming large enough to be felt, then to be seen.

And that's when Ryan's growth _really_ became explosive.

A second squirming lumpy form began burgeoning beside the first one. His belly swelled past nine months and continued outwards in all directions. The pressure was becoming more painful; the skin around his new womb protested the abuse it was forced to endure.

"HrrrnnnghhhOh, god!" His shriek was one of complete frenzy. "Oh god, oh god, oh god!"

Behind him, Koopernick let out a resigned sigh then knelt down behind the distraught senior student. After discarding the cigar, he took Ryan's shivering shoulders. He guided them, along with his head, to recline onto his ample lap. He restrained Ryan in place with one hand atop the boy's chest. This time though, Koopernick took more effort to handle Ryan with care.

"Calm down." Ryan heard the other man command. His voice was still colored by anger, but there was a slight timbre of sympathy in it. "It's only the second baby growing in."

Ryan lifted wild eyes up to the man's broad face. "S-second one?!" he sputtered.

"Yes," the guard explained, "they were fertilized at separate intervals, so they develop at those same intervals."

" _They_?! How many of - auuugh!!" Ryan cried out before he could finish his question.

The pain radiating throughout his body advanced into agony. It began to outstrip whatever methods they used to produce his artificially induced pleasure state. Ryan arched his back, threw his chin into the air, pressing the rear of his head down into Koopernick's lap. A third presence began to develop inside him; his belly ballooned still further to accommodate the newest occupant.

"Four," came the belated answer. The man may have actually sounded a little guilty, though Ryan could hardly be sure in his present state of mind.

Seconds after he'd confirmed the number, Ryan felt a fourth body joining the others. His belly undulated with flailing and shoving as the four vied for space in their rapidly constricting little home. No longer able to keep the movements in check, the now tectonic quaking in his belly rocked Ryan along with it.

His belly took on an oblong shape while it continued to push upwards and outwards. Dark blue veins spread around the lively bulge like gnarled fingers, thickening and weaving twisting trails through his stretching flesh.

Like an overfilled rubber ball, the pressure was tremendous, threatening to explode at the slightest provocation. The signs of strain on his body grew more pronounced. His skin took on a ruddier hue; small bruise-like splotches appeared as capillaries burst.

Raw-looking red stripes opened up like wounds across the curvature of his belly. They became stretch marks along the spans of skin whose elasticity could no longer keep up with the dreadful demands of his advancing, monstrous pregnancy. His skin glistened with rivulets of sweat that ran down his flanks like tiny creeks. All Ryan could do was watch as his body became less and less recognizable.

"Help me! I'm gonna burst!" Ryan screamed, clawing at his stomach, helpless to do anything. He couldn't stop screaming. The torment in his body had utterly outstripped the dampening effect of the pleasure.

"Shhh."

Ryan felt a warm hand rub circles over his chest, another hand cupped his cheek with a soothing touch.

"No, you won't. Antonov knows what he's doing. Hang on; it's almost over."

Considering the circumstances, Ryan wasn't about to reject any support, no matter the source. He leaned his head into the hand on his cheek, drawing what comfort he could from it. His own hands clutched fearfully at the sides of his belly as it continued to swell.

It was no longer possible to see anything past the dominating presence of his stomach, which more resembled a mountainous rise more than a belly. The great shape continued to bloat, burgeoning ever larger. The developing bodies inside continued to turn and thrash as, they too, grew. His insides sloshed and gurgled. The new cavity within the great globe became dense as the passengers and the fluids ran out of space to fill.

His belly had grown beyond twin, even triplet size, attaining a grotesque stature that towered far above him. The fundus of his new womb shoved rudely up against his rib cage and into his diaphragm, forcing him to work harder at breathing. There was intense pressure on his hips as the weight of the swell's bottom curve pushed at his pelvis. Ryan could no longer reach his belly button; he couldn't see it anymore.

His skin felt rock hard against his touch and so hot, it was almost uncomfortable. Various body parts of the creatures within pressed outwards against his hands, though mercifully, they had begun to grow sluggish. His whale-sized belly emitted a last deep, mournful groan before finally, the expansion slowed, then ceased with a concluding quiver.

For what seemed like a long time, the two sat there in the stillness of the bathroom; only the sound of Ryan's frantic panting echoed off the walls. Ryan feared that if he moved, he'd trigger more growth, and that would surely kill him. Koopernick slowly placed a hand atop the other man's forehead and carefully brushed back his hair.

"Why?" Ryan's voice sounded strained, weak to his ears, robbed of breath by his laboring lungs, and hoarse from his screaming. Still, in the dead space around them, it was easy to hear. Ryan lifted his eyes wearily to watch the other.

"Why what?"

Ryan made a weary sweeping motion to his gigantic new belly. "S-so many?"

The man's chiseled face spread into a reflexive grin when he followed Ryan's motion to the titanic shape. His pride was overt; he made no attempts to hide it before looking back at Ryan. "Four years of skipping out on mandated breeding. I hate to break it to you, but those are the new school rules. You've got some catching up to do."

More tears pooled around his tired eyes. He dreaded looking weaker, but he couldn't stop himself. His life was over.

Koopernick shrugged, his smile fading ever so slightly. "I'm sorry, but you brought this on yourself, man."

"Bastard," Ryan hissed, but there was little bite behind the words. He was fading from the strain of the night's trials.

There was more silence; Koopernick turned away from Ryan's stare and appeared to shift a little. His wandering gaze settled on something new. "What's this?"

Ryan felt a tug around his collar. It was his silver chain that Wyatt slipped off his neck. Ryan's eyebrows shot up to see the man holding a silver locket, the one he'd worn since he said goodbye to Moira. It was the only thing that hadn't been torn off him.

Weakly, he lifted his good arm to try and take it back. The effort was taxing, with pitifully sluggish results. Koopernick easily inched the item away from Ryan's grasp without pausing his examination. Ryan's arm crumpled back to his side.

Koopernick depressed a latch on the side of the ovular piece of jewelry to have it pop open into two halves. He studied the picture inside, the one Ryan took with his fiance. It showed him slipping a ring on her finger, the day he'd invited her on a picnic and proposed. It was the only image he had of her, of anyone from his life before this prison.

"You were going to marry her," the guard commented thoughtfully. "Were you going to do this after school?"

Ryan didn't bother providing an answer. The brawny man snapped the locket shut and peered down at the youth resting on his lap.

"I suppose I can get into the sentimental value of this. Why don't we tie the knot in that chapel in a few months?" He actually looked a little sheepish, as though the suggestion had come out more forwardly than he'd intended.

Ryan slumped, then shut his eyes. Beyond exhausted, battered, abused, and mutilated, there was nothing left in him to fight back with. All he wanted was to shut the world out.

He felt the guard's large hand come to rest against the surface of his belly, then trail over it in broad, slow, sweeping motions. Ryan flinched. His belly was uncomfortably tender to the touch, but it didn't burst as he'd feared it would.

The sensation was… weird. Ryan had never been so big in the waist before, having someone touch him there, so far above and removed from the rest of his body… it felt disjointed.

After Koopernick spent a minute or two rubbing the mass of flesh, his hand began to feel tingly and warm. After the initial soreness, Ryan found that the contact was pleasurable against his skin, soothing. Peripherally, Ryan was aware there was something incredibly unnatural about the bliss coming from the touch. Still, he heard himself let out a sigh of relief anyway.

"Come on. Let's get you out of this cold and get that arm taken care of."

Ryan had no intention of moving, but he needn't have been concerned. Koopernick took the time to redress, save for his shirt, which he swaddled around Ryan's hips in an improvised wrap. Though he kept his eyes closed, Ryan felt his captor gather his body over his sturdy arms. One arm supporting Ryan's back, the other his legs. Moments later, he was lifted with unbelievable ease. The big man didn't so much as grunt with effort. Had Ryan been less depleted, he would've gasped in shock.

Koopernick carried him the entire way to the infirmary, all the while keeping Ryan pressed against him, sharing his furnace-like body heat to ward off the chill of the winter air. Ryan laid his head on the man's broad shoulder; he didn't have the strength to protest. He was grateful for the late hour. Thankful that he was spared the indignity of having to be carried through an active campus full of people gawking at him.

Once at the infirmary, Ryan was cleaned off, his arm set and put into a cast, and prescribed some pain medication. They handed him a set of billowy hospital scrubs and slippers that could accommodate his new body.

After his examination, Ryan was given permission to leave with orders to be on bed rest for the next week. He was escorted out by Koopernick, who had just been declared his official handler now that he'd been the one to breed with Ryan. The boy noted the man's already barreled chest swelling a little more with pride as he signed the papers marking it as official.

Ryan could manage a slow waddle, though Koopernick still provided the bulk of the lift for him. The new weight of his belly was unfamiliar. It tugged down on him like a two-hundred-pound weighted vest. He was concerned that once he laid down, he'd be unable to get out of bed again. He also felt sick and a little nauseated, like he'd caught a cold.

The sports area had been deserted, but Ryan and his new handler's arrival to the dormitories caused a stir. With shirts tightly stretched across their own spherical stomachs, several students were awake to cheer and whoop their welcomes to their returning classmate and applaud the spectacle. Ryan hung his head in shame.

This proved to be equally awful as it forced him to take in another eyeful of his titanically proportioned belly. It was impossible to miss, obtruding far out in front of him. Ryan shut his eyes and tried to retreat inside his head. He wondered if his friends were watching. If they saw him and his grotesque new body.

How many times had he seen this same scene play out? He remembered all the disgust he'd felt, the horrified resignation that those poor devils were beyond help. Now, he _was_ one of those poor devils. Ryan squeezed his eyelids shut as hard as he could, but he knew tears were seeping through anyway.

"I need the keys for a Mister Fuentes." His handler's voice filtered through Ryan's self-loathing.

Ryan opened his eyes to see that they stood at the kiosk in front of his old dorm building. The residential assistant quickly picked the set off from its peg along the back wall and handed them over. After a nod, Koopernick led his waddling companion into the building. Ryan felt more than a little like a prized hog being proudly shown off right before the slaughter.

The last of the ogling students were quickly shooed away with a stern stare from Ryan's oversized escort. Ryan surveyed the commons area; it had once been familiar to him. The games and diversions there before were still there, though someone must have decided to include more overstuffed couches. The large flatscreen TV along the wall and a row of vending machines were also new additions since he'd last been inside.

They turned down the hall towards what Ryan quickly recognized as his old room. There was no way they'd still have his old stuff after so long. Koopernick halted in front of the familiar door. An easy turn of the key and the locked door opened; he gently ushered Ryan in first.

Behind him, his handler flicked on the light switch. Ryan was instantly surrounded by his old things. The room looked exactly like he remembered it. His computer still sat at his desk; the walls were still plastered with his Seattle Mariners posters. Over in the corner sat his mini-fridge. His shelves housed his baseball glove, alarm clock, and books.

Several favored knickknacks littered across their perches. Ryan turned to his bed; the sheets and covers were still the same, albeit meticulously cleaned and pressed. He also noted, darkly, that the frames containing photos of his family were empty of their pictures.

"We keep everything in tip-top condition for yours and the others returns," Koopernick said proudly, "just as you left it."

An involuntary yawn escaped Ryan's mouth; the little second wind he'd gotten after his trip to the infirmary was wearing off. He staggered a little, but Koopernick's grip quickly steadied him.

"Let’s get you to bed.”

For once, Ryan was in complete agreement with the other man. He allowed himself to be led to the bed. Koopernick knelt down and slid off Ryan’s slippers, then helped guide him into a comfortable reclined position. He pulled the covers over Ryan’s body, tucking him in bed in a rather motherly fashion.

Ryan’s sight was quickly blackening as his body prepared for sleep. The mattress sagged under the weight of the large man as he sat on the edge of the bed. Again, that warm hand returned to Ryan’s cheek. The thumb gently moved up and down in a light graze. Through the layers of covering, Ryan felt the weight of his other hand settle on his belly. His body gave another tiny shiver of happiness. It felt so good to have Koopernick touch him like that.

“Sleep nice and tight cause you’re gonna be like this for a while. I’ll check in on you tomorrow. We’ve got some things to discuss,” the guard whispered near his ear. He started to rise before pausing and leaning back over Ryan’s supine form. “Oh. The name’s Wyatt. Nice to finally meet you.”

Ryan felt his lips curl into a little smile as the other man stood and silently let himself out. The bed was warm and delightfully soft against his sore back, encouraging his mind to wander towards thoughts of the wedding. They’d definitely have it in the chapel. He imagined how striking a figure Wyatt would cut in a tuxedo. He was so amazed at how lucky he was that they’d found each other. Wyatt was the perfect man for him.

Ryan hummed dreamily as he drifted further into sleep. He absently wondered if Moira would be their photographer. She was really good at it, and since she was his fiancé, they could probably get a good dea… Ryan’s eyes snapped open in sudden alarm.

What the hell was he thinking? Marrying his rapist?!

Ryan realized that whatever happened to all the captives was already beginning to affect him. It always started with whatever was growing inside them. He tore the covers off his body and glared down at his own newly impregnated belly. Whatever they were, he had several of the creatures growing inside him now.

Ryan’s eyes glinted with anger. He’d just been abused! He was a prisoner, but he was _not_ going to become one of them! With much struggling, Ryan managed to hoist his heavy body up and stagger over to his desk. The effort had him panting for several minutes until he could catch his breath.

Ryan pulled open the top drawer in his desk and rummaged around inside. He prayed it would still be here. His sanity might depend on it. After a few worrying moments of searching, Ryan pulled out a little bottle of generic aspirin tablets. He twisted the cap open and dumped the contents onto the surface of his workspace.

Several white oblong pills spilled out. Ryan began sifting through them one by one. He lifted each and checked the virtually indecipherable numbering carved into the individual tablets. He’d gone through almost two-thirds of the contents before his search produced the items he was looking for.

Ryan held up two particular pills. They looked identical to all the rest, save that their numbering was different. Right after Ryan witnessed the impossible pregnancies of those first captured students, he’d snagged a bottle of Cytotec pills from the infirmary. Their abortive properties, he reasoned, could serve as a way to terminate their own pregnancies if they were ever caught.

His friends initially chided his paranoid proposition, but when they had all witnessed the changes in the converted students themselves, they quickly took some each. Tragically, their escape had been abrupt; none of them managed time enough to gather any of their things. This meant the pills stayed behind.

But Ryan had an out. He held up the pills, then looked down at his domineering belly. The movements within had stilled to occasional twitches. Then Ryan remembered he was exhausted and probably thinking less clearly than he should be. There was no sure way of knowing how these pills would affect him. His handler was going to be back in the morning, which meant he might not have time to escape if he went into hours-long labor. Labor that in his exhausted condition might kill him. And he was tired, exhausted.

Ryan carefully put the pills all back in their bottle and returned them to the drawer. He slowly got himself back into bed and settled in. His last thoughts were of the need for careful planning before sleep finally claimed him.


	4. Chapter 4

Ryan twitched on the bed; his consciousness unmoored from the waking world, meandering in a dreamless slumber. His first semi-cognizant stirrings incited a chilled feeling against the skin of his stomach. He wanted to ignore it, to sink back into the escape of oblivion, but the frosty feeling around his midsection persisted. Reluctantly, the tired senior cracked open his eyes. The sight that greeted Ryan drew forth a whimper of despondency.

He must have tossed in his sleep because the blankets lay in a tangled lump at his feet. His shirt lay bunched up around his chest, exposing the new mountainous rise of flesh where his midriff used to be. Sunlight filtered through a crack in the curtains, highlighting the oblong outline of the new mass. Ryan’s once flat stomach was obscenely engorged with whatever creatures resided inside. Crowning the mountain was the bulbous outline of his inflated belly button.

So, it wasn’t a horrible nightmare. He’d really been raped, and the spawn of Wyatt’s seed had taken root. He’d become one of them. A fresh flood of anguish-laden tears welled in Ryan’s eyes, blurring his vision.

Tentatively, Ryan slid his trembling hand into contact with the rounded flank. He felt the light pressure points of his fingertips tracing over the domed expanse; the warmth shared between the two surfaces confirmed there was real skin there.

_His_ skin.

_His_ belly.

Ryan yanked his hand away in disgust.

After he tired of staring at the ceiling, Ryan propped himself up with his good arm intending to sit. The first attempt failed, as did the second. Hoisting the weight of his new fecundity demanded too much from his exhausted body. Ryan abandoned the idea in favor of shimmying himself up, using the headboard as a brace.

Ryan eventually succeeded in flailing into a quasi-sitting position. He was contemplating the logistics of standing when a new alien sensation bloomed within him… the movement of another small body.

As he stared aghast at his new belly, one of the unborn creatures shifted. Though he saw no movement with his eyes, Ryan felt something tickle along the left side of the swell. The sensation was coming from the _inside_ of his body! An extraordinarily odd feeling, one he hadn’t acclimated to.

The movement brought with it memories of the night before. Ryan’s fear banished what little lingering drowsiness remained.

Amidst the horror, another unexpected feeling crept in, almost entirely unobserved. Pride. Pride in his fertility. Ryan’s face shifted through several confused expressions, ranging from revulsion to dull grinning. His hand returned to his belly, he began to caress it, much like Percy had done.

“There there, little ones.”

Ryan heard himself speak the sentence, but the accompanying thoughts resonating through his mind were disconnected from his mouth. The words, the enunciation of each syllable, they felt alien. As if someone else was giving him flashcards with a prewritten script to recite. It was like there was another Ryan, but it wasn’t _Him_.

The senior violently shook his head when he realized what he said. _What?! No!_

It was the pregnancy again! He couldn’t let himself become like the others! This other Ryan wanted control; he had to fight it! He yanked his hand away from his belly then wiped fresh tears from his eyes with his knuckles.

_I’m done crying._

“F-fuck!” Ryan swore to the empty room. His eyes hardened in a glare towards his belly while it continued to writhe and gurgle.

He waited until the parasites finally calmed before heaving himself to the edge of the bed. His stomach settled into his lap, pressing down with uncomfortable weight against his thighs. The apex of the swell stuck out to his knees. Ryan fixed his shirt back in place, groaning at the memory of the four little monsters being labored into him.

This was the first time Ryan tried to stand entirely under his own power. He wasn’t prepared for the sheer load his pregnancy put on his frame. Ryan only succeeded in rising an inch or two from the mattress before his knees buckled, and he plunged back onto his butt.

Earlier fears of being trapped in his room forever, too big to move, made a return visit through Ryan’s imagination. The disgusting picture of himself fueled his determination. He would _not_ become an invalid! This time, with a monumental surge of effort, Ryan leaned forward, pivoting himself to rise. He wobbled unsteadily, but he was on his feet.

But the new center of gravity continued to pull Ryan along his forward trajectory, long after he’d meant to stop. He began to capsize like a top-heavy barge. Ryan windmilled his arms towards the edge of his desk to prevent his face-first collision with the floor. Wheezing like an asthmatic, Ryan shot the enormous inconvenience in front of him, a look of pure aggravation, before flipping it the bird for good measure.

Ryan was crusty from last night’s ordeal and this morning’s unexpected workout. A hot shower sounded like heaven. In a series of awkward lurching motions, Ryan tottered from his desk to the door. His belly was so bulky, so burdensome. Ryan ruefully considered that it was secretly an iron wrecking-ball he was pregnant with. His back screamed at him, his wobbling legs threatened to quit working altogether, but Ryan wouldn’t be dissuaded. Even if he had to crawl there, he was getting that damn shower!

Once out into the hallway, Ryan made use of every chair, table, and wall he could reach to support himself as he slowly progressed towards the shared dormitory bathrooms. The effort got him breathing every bit as hard as he had last night during his run from Koopernick.

His scrubs were clingy with dampness from his body. Ryan gave a derisive sneer at his current pitiful efforts. More had been stolen from him last night than his trim waist. Ryan got angry, then used it to spurn himself onwards with a little more haste.

Three-quarters of the way there, Ryan lifted a sweat-drenched brow to the hallway clock. Its ticking arms calmly told him it was well before seven in the morning. None of the other students were lurking around yet. This gave Ryan some relief; he’d have the bathroom to himself. He finished the rest of the short trek down the hall undisturbed.

Once in the bathroom, the former athlete passed the room’s full-length mirror on his way to the shower stalls. He paused, catching his grotesque reflection staring back at him.

_No sense putting this off._

Ryan removed the large scrubs, first sliding the pants down his legs, then gathered his fingers under the hem of the oversized shirt and tossed the clothing aside. Ryan allowed his eyes a couple seconds of procrastination before he forced himself to look at the full countenance of his naked body in the mirror.

Before today, he kept himself fit and trim with baseball, regular exercise, and healthy eating. His stomach had always been flat with a nice set of abdominal muscles that delineated attractively under his caramel-colored skin. A medium dusting of dark brown body hair completed, what Ryan believed, was a decent-looking figure for a man of his age.

Now, Ryan’s stomach had mutated into this bulging, grotesque tumor-like thing. Swollen so broadly, the reflection of its rounded flanks could only _just_ fit within the confines of the mirror’s width. His tanned skin struggled to wrap around a monstrous sphere that he reckoned must extend at least a foot-and-a-half out in front of him.

His once distinct happy trail spread to the point of sparsity over his engorged new waist, like butter spread too thinly over bread. Underneath the fuzz and skin, Ryan saw the embossed outlines of swollen veins that traced spiderweb patterns across the contours of his belly, feeding blood to the new unnatural organ within.

Nestled in the center of this obscenity was his popped belly button. The size of a grape, the skin was pinkish, as if freshly healed. A line of dark skin bisected the two sides of his belly. It began above his groin and ran nearly all the way up to his sternum. It was uneven in width and squiggly in places, as if drawn by a toddler. The only place where the line was broken up was where it intersected his belly at the center. Ryan reached around the circumference of his gut to poke the fat nub, but his stomach extended inches beyond his fingertips.

He huffed again in frustration, then turned sideways to get a profile view. Mid rotation, Ryan felt the end of his stomach collide with something on the sink counter. He couldn’t initially see what, but a cup containing toothpaste and a toothbrush clattered to the floor moments later. He groaned again.

_I’m not used to this… How will I ever get used to this?_

Ryan returned his gaze back to the mirror. His belly's profile was less perfectly spherical than it had appeared when he was scrutinizing it straight on. Bowing out even further in the front, the severe slopes gave it an oblong shape more like a watermelon or the nose of a blimp, far too large to fit in the mirror’s frame. Ryan thought it looked like the gut wanted to tear its way out of his midsection entirely.

Ryan directed his stare away from his stomach to scrutinize the rest of himself. His nipples were a little puffy and darker than they should’ve been. Prodding one with his hand elicited a feeling of irritation. They were tender to the touch. A small dribble of milky fluid trickled from the stimulated skin. Ryan regarded it with disgust and quickly wiped the liquid away with his fingers.

Further examination revealed that the rest of his body, mercifully, remained his. He hadn’t lost his dusting of dark body hair. His chest still looked defined and masculine, still covered with the same tanned skin. His shoulders were still broad, and his arms athletic and muscled.

What he could see of his legs brought a greater degree of reassurance. They still looked like they belonged to him. Built from years of regular jogging. His posterior was still the same size. His back seemed relatively normal, if not mightily strained from supporting all the new weight.

He combed a hand through his thick dark hair. No access to a hairdresser meant that it had become longer and unkempt, but it was still his. His eyes stared back at him with their familiar warm-earth color. His face's shape hadn’t changed; he still had the proportions and angles that made his features smooth and attractively puerile.

Breath held in suspense, Ryan gingerly snaked his hand along the underside of his massive pregnancy, checking on his penis and scrotum. It came as a huge relief to feel their reassuring presence. He let out a sigh.

_Still male._

Satisfied with his inspection, Ryan reached into the shower stall and turned the handle. Coldwater immediately sprinkled out of the showerhead above, splashing over the vast surface of the top of his stomach. Ryan hissed and hopped back.

_This damn thing is gonna be a pain to work around._

While the water took a few moments to warm, Ryan unhooked his injured arm from the sling. Another harsh grunt of irritation passed through his lips from the ache of his injury. The elbow had definitely swollen, half again larger than its original size; his skin acquired a deep plumb pigmentation to go along with it.

_Another memento from last night, courtesy of Officer Koopernick. Bastard…_

Steam billowed over the rim of the curtain. Ryan banished his thoughts from last night, eagerly pulling the plastic barrier aside, ready for some relief. Upon attempting to walk in, he felt the unpleasant sensation of cold tile press against the front of his stomach. Ryan balked when he realized his belly was already smooshed against the rear stall wall.

Ryan gawked at himself in utter disbelief for several seconds. His gut completely filled the space, blocking the rest of his body from getting past the curtains. Ryan’s face grew red, his forehead wrinkled with quickly mounting frustration.

“You have _got_ to be shitting me!” he growled down at his swollen midriff as if it were some unwelcome house guest hogging the shower all to itself. “I’m so fucking fat I can’t take a shower now?!”

Ryan took in a deep breath, attempting to flex his stomach muscles and suck in some of the volume of his belly. To his chagrin, it made no discernible difference. In a fit of obstinance, Ryan leaned forward and tried to shove his way in. But this wasn’t fat; there was no give to be had. His belly was swollen with Koopernick’s weird mutant abominations and rock solid. Ryan’s feet slid in place, but all he succeeded in doing was to wear himself out again.

After much-heated deliberation, Ryan reluctantly concluded that the little stalls had space enough for either him or his belly, not both. Therefore, to get to everything, he had to wash himself and his belly separately.

The only way Ryan could get his body into the stall was to back-in. This allowed him to get his head and frame under the faucet to wash. There was nowhere for his belly to go, so he let it hang out of the stall, water cascading in little falls down its curvaceous surface. The trickles dripped onto the floor, collecting into a small puddle out in the middle of the bathroom. Ryan dimly noted it, but couldn’t be bothered to give a shit, so he took his time, flooded floor be damned.

The shower felt wonderful on his bruises. His back pain quieted to a dull thrum. Ryan cranked the heat up a little more, lifting his face so the water dribbled over his features. He hadn’t enjoyed the luxury of hot water in years. River bathing was, ball-shriveling-ly, chilly at the best of times.

Ryan carefully rested his broken arm over the top of his roundness to let it share in the soothing drizzle. He used his other arm to do most of the actual work of scrubbing. It was a slow, methodical process this way, but Ryan didn’t think he could rush if he’d wanted to.

He used the convenient shower drain to relieve his full bladder before reluctantly twisting the shower handle closed. By the time he was done indulging in his luxuriation, there was a puddle of water the size of a small lake gathered in the bathroom's communal area.

After he was done, Ryan grabbed a large beach-towel to wrap around his waist. His belly’s girth was far too ample for the towel to enclose, so he tucked it under the swell, right over his crotch. Ryan picked up the sling, carefully slid his arm back in place, then fastened it over his shoulder. The former athlete was so focused on the drawn-out and tedious process, he failed to hear the others enter the bathroom behind him.

“They finally got you, eh, Fuentes?”

Ryan recognized the voice. He turned to face Gerald Morgan. Gerald was in the class behind Ryan, which made him a junior this year. They were never really friends. The other man’s interests lay almost exclusively in football and partying. Ryan found Gerald to be too much of the asshole persuasion for his liking.

Gerald was tall, had always been so. But the previous two-plus years had been generous. He stood at an easy six-foot-five, towering over Ryan’s more modest five-foot-eleven stature.

Built like a Wide receiver, Gerald possessed the kind of buff-mixed-with-agility that made him a good sprinter. And while Ryan frequented the weight room two or three times a week, Gerald never missed a day. From the looks of things, he’d continued that trend over the last couple of years… with interest.

Gerald had packed on an intimidatingly-massive amount of musculature to his frame. His pale skin looked practically spray-painted over the bulk. If he’d been a Wide receiver before, now, he more resembled a gorilla _posing_ as a Linebacker.

He used to have a short buzz cut, but he’d apparently let his curly red hair flourish. The curls added several inches of length to give the jock a loose, red afro. Gerald hadn’t escaped the fate that befell all the boys outside Ryan’s little band of runaways. His body housed a portly baby belly. It was the only part of Gerald’s figure smaller than Ryan’s.

The jock’s entourage included a couple more students from Gerald’s class, Ethan and Greg. All three of them were on the football team before wide-scale pregnancy implementation ended the athletics programs altogether.

Greg had a thick beetle-browed forehead that Ryan thought gave him a perpetual scowl. He’d also grown his brown hair out over time, tying it in a messy ponytail. His chin and jaw were covered in a matching scraggly beard.

Ethan used to boast to everyone that he was a natural blond. No one ever took him seriously. The ruse hadn’t been important to him as of late, as his brown roots had grown out several inches since Ryan last got a close look at him.

Neither Ethan nor Greg was as tall as Gerald or as built. Before Antonov’s regime, Ethan had been a little chubby, but he’d trimmed down under the school’s newly implemented fitness programs. Though his size and definition weren’t as pronounced as Gerald’s, Ethan was a great deal more strapping, save one odd feature. He sported a pair of tiny, almost breast-looking, fat deposits on his pecs. Those definitely hadn’t been there before his impregnation.

Both flanked Gerald. All three of them were heavily gravid with a guard’s offspring. Judging by their sizes, one baby each. It was evident they weren’t the least bit self-conscious of the fact they stood there in nothing but boxers.

There was no mistaking the libidinous looks in their eyes. They gazed at Ryan’s near-nude body hungrily. Ryan broke the silence, hoping to distract them from whatever thoughts they were entertaining.

“Yeah. I suppose they did,” he tried to sound nonchalant.

Gerald leaned an elbow on Ethan’s shoulder while languidly reaching down the boy’s front to cup and rub at the underside of his belly. Ethan’s eyes dropped halfway closed, then he let out an unapologetic mewl at the touch.

“They got you good. How many you got in there? Must be a lot ‘cause you’ve been breaking the rules for a long time,” Gerald leered at him.

Damn, he really _had_ taken too long of a shower! Students were beginning to rouse, and he had to deal with _this_ situation! Ryan side-eyed the door out of the bathroom. They were closer to it than he was.

Before today, he could’ve outrun and outmaneuvered them easily. But things had changed. He had a busted arm, not to mention his unfamiliarity with this new bulk of his. With smaller bellies, the trio was considerably less burdened than he. Ryan had to face the reality that _he_ was the slower one now.

_I need a new strategy._

Realizing he couldn’t rely on his body's physicality to get him out of trouble anymore, his mind raced for other options. He swept his gaze over their faces, taking mental note of the dullness in their eyes, the inebriated swaying in their stances. All the pregnant boys were like that. Ryan still had the advantage of his wits and sharper mind.

For the moment, he decided to continue their conversation. They, like all the other unnaturally impregnated men, had lost their minds to the sensual nature of the hormones surging through them. He might be able to talk his way out of this.

“Four,” Ryan admitted, keeping his voice studiously casual.

“Mmm… You deserve it, you know. You’ve been so bad. You’ll realize soon enough that what’s happening to us is good… It feels so g-good.” He continued to caress Ethan’s belly as the teen writhed in pleasure. “You want it don’t you? You can feel it. The aching need bubblin’ up inside you.”

Ryan shook his head. “No. I Can’t say that I d-oh!- _oof!_ ”

It was at that moment the creatures, fully awake, stirred. The shifting was slight at first but quickly progressed into a series of seismic heaves within him. Ryan hadn’t been ready for the powerful movement. He flinched in surprise, his hand shot down to press against his roundness. His belly gurgled loudly as it, very visibly, distorted in front of all of them.

Ryan felt his insides rudely shoved around. Something bumped up against his diaphragm, pushing his breath out of him. Ryan was still damp, and the glistening water dotting his stomach only served to highlight every movement in specular detail.

To Ryan’s rising alarm, all three of the others became acutely aroused. The fattening bulges in their boxers left little to the imagination. To Ryan’s heightening panic, he felt the unwanted swelling in his own member. His mind began to fog at the sight of the other pregnant boys. He lusted for their ripe forms touching him, penetrating him, being penetrated _by_ him.

_No!_

His free hand shot up to his broken elbow, pinching it hard. The pain lanced through his arm, driving the fog of lust from his mind. Ryan was grateful that his overhanging belly and towel hid his arousal from the others.

“S-sorry fellas. I got other things to do. But you three go have fun,” he said, not quite managing to keep all the jitter out of his voice.

Gerald smiled greedily at Ryan’s belly. “Supposing I just take what I want?”

Ryan gulped down his fear, then brought forth all the bravado he could muster. He relaxed his stance and casually leaned a shoulder against the wall, plastering his best cocksure grin across his face.

“Well, you’ll have to take that up with Officer Koopernick; he’s taken quite a liking to me.” Ryan patted the top of his glistening belly lazily. “I’m not sure he’d want you damaging the goods he’s worked so hard to install; know what I mean?” The confident, lackadaisical voice that flowed out of his mouth surprised him.

The warning seemed to have gotten their attention. Gerald visibly backed down. The jock’s pride, however, wouldn’t let him leave without getting the last word in. “You can’t escape what’s happening to you.” He patted his own belly. “Specially not with four at once. Come on, guys. Ryan’ll join us soon enough. Then he’ll realize what he’s missing!”

He turned and retreated back to his room on the other side of the dormitory, filling the hallway with his deep laughter. Ethan and Greg stared intently at Ryan a bit longer, then followed.

Ryan waited until they were gone, then waddled back to his room as fast as he was capable. He didn’t let out his held breath until he had the door locked and his back pressed firmly against the wall. Relieved to be out of that situation, Ryan exhaled.

“That was close.” He tried hard to control his breathing through the panting. His belly jostled again, causing Ryan to rock unsteadily on his feet. He shot a contemptuous look at the offending globe. “Fuck’s sake!” he growled down at it.


End file.
